The next time you see a homeless person on the streets remember me, please. As vulnerable as I come across writing about the time when we were houseless, they all feel the same way. Everybody has a story. Now, let’s continue mine.
Category: <span>Losing it All</span>
I had never heard of ‘Sausage Kitchens.’ Turns out they are everywhere in Louisiana. You can even buy homemade sausages at some gas stations. Just like slices of pizza are sold on the streets in Italy, the people in Louisiana enjoy their Cajun sausages everywhere -and in many variations.
My friend made me feel welcome in her home. She made sure I knew how much she enjoyed having me and the dogs around. She was a widow, lived with her small Wiener dog alone in the boonies on two acres of land.
October 2009. In a few days, the electricity and the water would be shut off. The notice to vacant the house and the property could be left at our door now anytime. I decided to stay in our home for as long as I could. My husband meanwhile slept for two days on his brother’s couch, 800 miles away.
Dramatic and life-altering events take place in our lives, and people around us go on with their routines like nothing had happened. Neighbors came back from work, kids were playing outside while we were gasping for air, desperately trying to find a solution out of our dilemma.
In October 2009, during a time when the American economy took a nosedive, and people were being laid off by thousands and thousands every day, we lost everything. Our home, our jobs, our friends, and ultimately the city we had lived in for so many years.
I had packed a small kid-size suitcase with my pajamas and Dusie. Her real name was Susie, but it seems I had problems with the “S” as a child, so I had renamed my doll. I wore my red winter coat, black shiny summer shoes even though it was cold outside and my favorite dress, that’s all I took with me, and of course, my school backpack.